


human

by lokh



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokh/pseuds/lokh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for creatures built on belief, to lose it is to be fundamentally changed. in jack's case, into a human being, apparently</p><p>or, jack starts losing his power and this is apparently solved by cuddling with bunny</p>
            </blockquote>





	human

“…I’m cold.”

That was all it took to know that something was horribly wrong with Jack Frost.

The entire workshop went silent in an instant, yetis catching themselves from a startled stumble and elves dropping toys and trinkets with a clatter. Even the icy winds outside seemed to halt, ceasing to batter against the glass as though also witness to the spectacle. All that was left was the shocked intake of breath by Tooth and her fairies, along with the open staring of the rest of the gathered Guardians.

Had it been an incident in isolation, the statement would've hardly warranted a scoff and dismissive wave of the hand. He made jokes all the time, about that sort of thing. The North Pole was quite a bit colder than Burgess, he'd like to say every once in a while. You'd think there were winter spirits here out to get me, he'd say. Him saying another joke of poor-taste was hardly worth contemplating, especially when he was so clearly _not_ feeling cold, looking every bit in his element in the icy tundra.

But not now. He looked shocked at himself for saying it, realizing his words true. The exposed skin of his calves trembled in the chill, lips almost violet compared to their usual desaturated hue. This wouldn't have warranted immediate concern in itself.

Recently, Jack had been showing up late.

That was no surprise, either. He did so fashionably (in his own words). He'd appear, suddenly and sneakily, incite a few indignant yelling ("Jack! I could've knocked out one of your beautiful teeth, by accident!"), or he'd show up in a flourish, making the most showy entry he could. If it wasn't on purpose, it was because he was, by far, one of the hardest Guardians to get a hold of. Habits of centuries died hard, and in any case, though quick, he didn't move by the speed of portals, or of tunnels. He wandered and drifted - they could only guess where he'd end up next. Mostly, they guessed by whatever snow storm was strongest at the time.

Even those had been getting weaker as of late. To be _fair_ , the northern hemisphere had sunk into an uneasy and humid summer, hotter than those ever before, and the populations of the southern hemisphere didn't see much snow. There wasn't much to _be_ strong. None of the other Guardians would visit Antarctica, much less acclimated to the cold than their resident winter sprite, to see how the ice was faring there, but on Bunny's word, the snows of Tasmania were less plentiful than usual.

His tardiness had gotten to the point where he'd have to leave almost as soon as he arrived, weather calling him to carry out his duties. Eventually, he was showing up with a yeti having fetched him on a mountain, or on Bunny's back, looking nauseous. He didn't stay afloat as often as he would before, when he looked almost like the wind would sweep him away at any moment - sometimes, Tooth would swear that she saw him stumble mid-air and remain on ground, but she didn't think too hard on it, not when he'd seem to pick himself back up instantly. He seemed more _lethargic_ than usual, still the same old mischievous Jack Frost, but that otherworldly vitality dwindling.

It was worrying, but not entirely unexpected. He was out of his element, so it was expected he'd experience a slight drop in power and energy.

The cold, though - that was something new.

“Yes, but, you are cold all time, yes?” North said, uncertainly, a pre-emptive hand laid across his belly. Jack’s lips twisted, not enough to be a scowl, but enough to betray his discomfort and confusion.

“Yeah, but not like this. The cold is… well, actually making me feel cold. That’s something it’s supposed to do to _other_ people.”

Sandy tugged at North’s trousers, brows furrowed in concern. North hesitantly shook his head.

“No, Sandy, is too early to tell. Could be anything.”

“What? What is it?” Jack said, hands running up and down his arms, but a twist in his gut told him he might already know the answer. He didn’t want to entertain it. “You don’t think…?”

“Jack, when was the last time you went to see Jamie?” Tooth said quietly, voice tinged with worry as she flitted closer to him. His feet felt heavy against the chilled marble, and Baby Tooth stared up at him as though knowing what he was thinking.

“It… must have been four months ago,” and it’s been an agonizingly long time, he knew, another reminder that only feeds the dread gnawing at his throat and spine, fear he thought he’d never have to face again resurfacing. It must’ve shown on his face, because Tooth immediately rushed to reassure him, hands flailing.

“He definitely still believes in you,” she asserted emphatically, gesturing broadly to the lights shining on the Globe. “But your current belief base is centered on where he lives. It’s just that they haven’t been getting snow, since it’s summer, and, well, you know how kids are…”

Jack didn’t move. His palms left trails of melting ice on his staff (and, oh, _god_ , he was warm enough to sweat?), mouth working around unvoiced syllables until eventually he pursed his lips, nodding tightly.

“Hey now, hold on,” Bunny piped up, voice clearly projecting and less shaky than the others, but the ear pressed against his head made his concern just as obvious as the others. Jack couldn’t even find it in himself to make fun of him for it. “Let’s not get all riled up just yet. Like North said, it could be anything. And even if ya think it’s that, maybe it won’t be all that big a deal. S’not like he hasn’t put up with that sorta thing longer than he’s been a Guardian.”

There were few mumbles of assent, each more doubtful than the previous, until the shifting of sand prompted their attention. Eyes on him, Sandy immediately began conjuring images above his head – an hourglass newly turned, five circles becoming two, and a (quite frankly, ominous and creepy) scene of a figure slumping to the ground and shriveling up.

“You think because I’m a newly turned Guardian that it’ll affect me worse?” Jack said, struggling to keep his tone even. Everything felt unbelievably cold and excruciatingly hot at the same time – if he tried to do anything other than stay still and talk, it felt as though he would immediately shatter into tiny pieces.

“Your powers not tied up to belief, before, Jack,” North said, frowning, fingers drumming against his bicep in thought. “With such little number, even small loss devastating.”

“But he’s different, to us,” Tooth cut in, fairies nodding frantically. “He’s a winter spirit – he’s tied in with the seasons. Maybe this is just a seasonal thing.”

“This hasn’t happened before, though,” is what Jack tried to say, at the same time Bunny scoffed, “hey, I’m the rabbit here, not him. As if it doesn’t snow in the southern hemisphere!”

“Well, yes, but, given that all his believers are in North America–”

“Only time will tell,” North announced, silencing them. It didn’t make Jack any more reassured.

“So long as believed, will not die. And Jamie, we trust will keep believing. We can only hope is not bad. Or fatal.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, dryly, trying not to shake. He would’ve done a better job at it if he hadn’t noticed in his periphery Bunny snuffling him, face contorted in confusion and concentration.

“…what?”

Bunny flinched away from him, as though catching himself by surprise, and Jack tried not to think too hard about how noticeable the sudden loss of heat was. Bunny stared at him, gaze unreadable. Then he said, after a long pause, “no, it’s nothing. Musta been my imagination.”

The activity in the background slowly began to resume, a few yetis bellowing at each other and the clamor of tools and hammers filling the quiet once more. In the North Pole, the sky was perpetually bright, but years of habit told them that the day was getting later. Tooth reluctantly excused herself to attend to her teeth, fairies trailing behind her even more slowly, and Sandy too left after fussing over Jack for a moment. North cleared his throat, and clapped the two remaining on the shoulder in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture but only ended up being a grievously injuring one.

“In any case, I do not think it is safe for Jack to go alone, or fly. Might lose power two miles in air. Not best idea. Bunny should be taking him.”

“What? Now, wait a second,” Bunny protested, shrugging off North’s grasp. Jack tried not to feel too offended. He failed. “Why me? Why not Tooth?”

“Well, cannot be me. Is too cold! Defeats the point, yes? Tooth already gone. Can not look after Jack at palace. Same with Sandy. Is better you stay with Bunny. Can take care of you, keep you warm.”

“Oi, where d’you get off callin’ me a _bludger?_ ”

“I’m not a child,” Jack retorted. It may have been more convincing if his teeth weren’t chattering. Bunny stared at him. Then kept staring. He stared long enough to make Jack regret even bringing it up in the first place. Finally, something in his face crumbled, and he sighed.

“Alright, I’ll take ‘im. We’ll stay in the Warren for now.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Jack sputtered, inching away from the Bunny that was slowly approaching him with arms outstretched. North, the traitor, just watched on with thinly veiled amusement. Bunny looked far from impressed, thick brows raising at his outcry. His suddenly straightened posture raised nothing but suspicion, paws on his hips.

“Well, ya welcome to stay here, if you’re right with that. Have fun freezin’ yer arse off.”

“Uh,” Jack started, before he could stop himself, disbelief rising uncontrollably when Bunny tapped the floor twice with his foot. Bunny smirked smugly at him, foot hovering over the open earth, and boy did Jack wish he would stop moving before thinking long and hard about it. It was in this moment of hesitation that the Guardian of Hope saw his chance. In an instant, he'd swept Jack under his arm, and any flailing and protestations were lost as they disappeared into the tunnel, ground closing in behind them.

North stared at the dandelion growing stubbornly out of the marble at their departure.

“We need to set up tunnel area. Make small garden.”

 

 

 

"Okay, you can let go of me now," Jack said, tiredly, and Bunny would've dropped him straight to the ground if it weren't for how jarring his sudden resignedness sounded coming out of his usually grinning mouth. Instead, he lowered him carefully onto the grass, trying to ignore the way his limbs trembled in his paws.

"Y'know, yer really not lookin' too good, Jack-o," Bunny murmured, not taking his eyes off him. Jack didn't even make an effort to stand up from where he was lain, and as much as Bunny would hate to admit it, watching the boy longer and longer gave him more reasons to worry about him. He'd managed to raise himself onto his knees, arms trembling with his weight, but where he'd been lying was left a puddle of water - melting ice. Bunny hunched down next to him, leaning forward nose-first, and figured that while Jack was focused on not falling over, he might as well see what's wrong.

Though he's a winter spirit, his skin had always been a human color, even if slightly on the dead-looking side of things. On the occasions that Jack would blush (at least, presumably it was blushing - he didn't know what else to call it when Jack would quickly avert his eyes at realizing Bunny was looking), his skin would take on a purple tinge, the ever-present frost on his cheek receding somewhat. These things just made him look more ethereal, less human - but the way it was now, the frost usually adorning his skin was almost completely missing, be it from his face or his hands, still shaking against the dirt.

His skin was beginning to pink in a way it never had before, looking more like the rosiness of the human children playing in the snow than the likeness of a bruise on pallid skin. As though blood was running beneath the surface, coursing through veins long unvisited by warmth.

He looked... alive.

Despite being the Guardian of Life and Hope, the sight only made him terrified.

"I really appreciate it, Bun, really rubbing it in there," Jack grumbled, but it was punctuated with quiet panting, shaky breaths short and struggling. The sarcasm was pretty much lost in the exhaustion in his voice. "Also, never call me that again."

"Seriously, Jack. What's goin' on? You still feelin' cold?"

"I... I don't know," Jack said, quietly, managing to sit up and stare at the ceiling of the Warren. He'd let go of his staff, hands leaving wet marks on the tangled wood, but even without the weight of his palms, the staff seemed thawed, the usual ice and snow conspicuously absent. "I'm not in pain, Bunny, don't look at me like that. It's just... I don't know. It's like I'm being pulled out of the ice again, or I'm forgetting how to breathe..."

That had Bunny stopping in his tracks. The eggs a ways away continued to walk on obliviously, steps only heard in their multitude against the hard ground. Nothing like the commotion of North's Workshop - in the relative stillness, his sudden silence was all the more prominent, ears twitching and pulled back while he stared, pieces still clicking together in his mind. Jack doesn't react - his eyes had slipped shut, lashes flickering against his cheeks. His breathing had always seemed, before, non-existent, barely a wisp of air to tell the boy was living (or, well, breathing, at least). In the calm, his breath seemed almost labored, a dissonant rhythm compared to their usual measured pianissimo.

Maybe he shouldn't tell him. But the worry was getting to him. He sniffed once, twice, before he sharply exhaled through his nose and shifted close. "Jack, something's wrong."

"Gee, Bunny, never woulda guessed. Thanks for letting me know."

"No, you bloody prick," Bunny said, but the word had about an ounce less animosity to it than usual. "I mean, you smell like a _human_."

Jack's stare was blank and unblinking. Bunny knew exactly what he was going to say.

"Well... I sort of am..."

"Was, you mean," Bunny said, unimpressed, arms crossed. "That's not the point! Ya din't smell like that before, human or spirit or what. Y' smell _different_ , and it hardly seems like a coincidence."

"Oh, what, you don't think I'm turning human or something?"

"Hey, you're the one that said you were a human. You tell me."

Jack bit his lip, gaze shifting. His fingers didn't make any movement to pick up his staff, prove him he was wrong. Everything so far added up - the sweating, the temperature, the color, his smell. Now the worst that could happen was that he was right.

"Being human... I mean, it's not necessarily a bad thing, right?"

And Bunny wanted to berate him for being deliberately obtuse, purposefully avoiding what was quickly becoming truth, but the look in his eyes made him hold his tongue. His expression, usually sure, was carefully built into a picture of stability, the line of his brows nowhere near strange but nowhere near usual, either. Everything was being guardedly held back behind a tenuous wall - something was making Bunny not want to break it.

"Mate, I might be a huge rabbit, but it's no day in the park bein' your regular garden-variety bunny, either. You're not gonna die, or anythin', but..."

Bunny gave a pointed look to the staff lying on the floor. Jack pointedly looked away, shoulders tense. "Yer gonna be out of commission for a while."

"I don't get it," he said, suddenly, barely giving Bunny time to finish his sentence. "They believe in me. Jamie believes in me. I don't get why something like this..."

He trailed off, waving his hand vaguely.

"Maybe Tooth was right?" Bunny suggested, but it sounded a bit pathetic, even to him. "Could just be a seasonal thing. Worst case scenario, you're just a lil' weaker. You saw me an' the others, had literally zero believers but all we did was chuck a sickie. Yer not gonna kick the bucket."

"Yeah, but,” _what if it's because they don't believe in me, anymore_? He didn't finish his sentence, but it was plain on his face. His handful of followers were hard won, a hope in a desert of three hundred years, and the idea that he could've lost it already in such a short time... Bunny felt like a right knob, talking about being physically right when the problem was much deeper. He should've known, sympathized. Jack's knuckles were beginning to turn white, buried into the fabric of his hoodie, and his brown eyes were still...

Brown?

"Frostbite, look at me," Bunny said, suddenly, stepping up to the boy and grabbing his shoulder. It was rougher than he intended, but he didn't have time to worry about it when Jack's face snapped to his.

There was no mistaking it. His eyes were brown, the color of leaves in autumn turning to snow, a far cry from their usual pale blue.

"Bunny? Bunny, what's wrong?"

"Brown," he blurted, before he could stop to think about it. Jack squinted at him, lip curled in confusion, and Bunny clarified, "your eyes. Your eyes are brown."

Jack broke out of his grasp before he could react, making a grab for his staff with clumsy fingers. The damp wood was free of any ice, and even when shaken, produced nothing but droplets of water. Jack shook it once; twice.

The curve of the staff lowered, almost touching the ground with how hard it shook, tremors running through its length from Jack's arms. He breathed in heavily, entire body raising (and it's worse, now, that it was metaphorical and not literal, feet firmly planted into the soil as though his anger could grow from the earth), the cut of his shoulders sharp and straight, and Bunny almost braced himself for a yell, a curse, maybe. The silence was pregnant enough, fraught with tension quieting the very breeze.

Jack dropped the staff.

Bunny caught him before he could do anything - fall, try to run, try to hurt something, hurt _himself -_ and he was more worried than he'd like to admit when Jack's struggling and movements were weak and slow. Or maybe they were just weak and slow compared to usual? The implications of _that_ weren't great, either. Nevertheless, Jack almost immediately stopped struggling, electing instead to grab onto Bunny, the fur of his shoulders, his chest, his neck, until he wasn't moving or struggling at all, only _clinging._

"Wh- Jack, calm down, 's fine, that sorta thing's normal, it'll come back, come off it..."

He didn't calm down. His hands gripped tighter, then loosened - again and again like it'd help him breathe in time. Wetness drowned his eyes, blurring his vision and his focus, and he wasn't looking at Bunny at all. Brown locks grew from the crown of his head - spreading like a shooting sprout. He was getting warmer, warmer, the sound of his heart immeasurably loud and his scent indistinguishable from a frightened _human_.

Bunny didn't know what to do. He stopped trying to pull away. What else could he do? His paws hesitantly circled around his shaking back, gentle like he was coaxing an injured bird.

Jack buried his face into his fur, and his skin was so, so warm, nothing like the coolness he expected, the slight chill he usually felt whenever he came into contact with the spirit. There were going to be hideous knots where his fingers had tangled themselves tightly into his fur, but it was hard to think about that when all he could feel right now was his slight form shuddering against him, grip tightening painfully.

_I'm scared._

Jack would never say it, not with his words, but every cell in his body was screaming out, cowering. It was said in the way he curled his body into him, head lowered and face deliberately hidden. It was whispered in the way Jack pressed so close to him, as if closing the distance would scare away the fear creeping up on him. It was an earnest confession in the very fact that Jack even let himself be so close to Bunny, let himself be seen so vulnerable, and to see Jack act this way, so uncharacteristically when usually so bright and energetic...

Bunny pulled him closer, arms tight against his back.

"It's gonna be fine," Bunny was murmuring, before he could stop himself, before he could realize what he was doing. Jack said something back, he wasn't sure - whatever sound he made was lost in his fur. "We'll figure it out, just hang in there."

The boy in his arms didn't move. Bunny was trying not to panic, but it was a tough thing - he hated feeling so lost, completely unsure of what he was supposed to do in a way he never had been before. His own words were echoing back to him in his head, some sort of masochistic irony - they really _didn't_ know what was going on, if this was normal for a winter spirit, or if it was something to do with being a Guardian, or a strange interaction between the two. They'd never experienced something like this before, and for creatures that had lived from centuries to eons, nothing could be more terrifying than _not knowing what to do_.

Especially when it came to things they cared about.

It was interesting how one's inhibitions about admitting such things disappeared the moment it seemed they could be lost forever.

"Okay, uh," Bunny started - stopped, hating the aimless sounds spilling out but needing to fill up the yawning space between them, "yer not - yer not in _pain_ , right? Yer just confused, and feelin' out of sorts, but yer _fine_ , right?"

" _No_ ," was the high-pitched response, bordering on a sob and hysterical laughter. Now that they were so close, Bunny realized just how _hard_ Jack was breathing, each breath uneven and shallow and following in quick succession, like waves crashing in a storm. His heart was beating almost as fast as _his_ , his rabbit-heart running fleet-footed and quick.

He was _panicking_.

How could he not have seen it before? Of course he was going to panic. He was more out of his element more than ever now, and, well. Humans are predisposed to that sort of thing, right? Though clearly, Pooka were liable to that sort of thing, too - there's no other reason for why he himself didn't notice something so obvious. Bunny willed himself to calm down a bit. He's a Pooka warrior - he could _handle this_. "Frostbite- _Jack_ , I need you to breathe."

"I... _am_... breathing..."

"No, I mean," and here Bunny tried to pull away a bit, give him some space to breathe (that's what you're s _upposed t_ o do, he'd been suffocating him like a drongo and wasn't he supposed to be helping him), but Jack didn't budge, fingers curling enough to actually h _urt._ “ _Okay, okay,_ calm yer farm, I'm not tryin' to catch a peek at ya or anythin'. Just. Try not to think, just breathe, after me, nice and easy."

"Don't think, huh, that's nothing new," and Bunny is admittedly a bit gratified when Jack snorts a bit at his indignant huff, nonetheless attempting to follow his measured breaths.

A minute, then two - his breathing hadn't begun to even out, but he was trying, and he wasn't shaking anymore, grip only adjusting with a particularly forceful exhale. Bunny looked down, stopped, then immediately looked back up. He'd just put off telling Jack that his hair was completely brown to the roots, the same shade as his eyes. No need to introduce anythin' that'd only ruin his efforts at calmness.

Bunny breathed deeper, slower.

Summer had long set in, but the scent of spring hadn't yet faded, especially not in its birthplace. Some flowers had begun to enter their bloom - his namesake, the asters, a vibrant lavender against daisy and sage. The Warren, here, smelled of freshly cut grass, of morning dew yet to fall from young leaves. He'd never stop feeling relief at remembering it was perpetually spring here; compared to the muggy atmosphere enveloping the land down under right now, it was downright _chilly_ in the warren.

Whenever Jack would drop by the Warren, unannounced more often than not, the entire place was filled with a sort of unfathomable liveliness, wind rustling the leaves and trees despite the fact that winds didn't reach the warren, not the winds that Jack carried with him. The wind wasn't here, now. Instead, all was quiet, the only rustling coming from beneath the footsteps of the eggs walking about.

A sigh - Jack's breathing was only slightly erratic now, a lilting rubato instead of a stumbling mess of dissonant chords. More than ever, his scent grew stronger, of sweat, dirt, tears - all these things that seemed _nothing_ like Jack. It wasn't bad, necessarily (though it was hard to keep his hackles down, tell himself that there was not, in fact, an intruder, or another Sophie situation).

Just _strange_.

"What? I didn't quite catch that, Frostbite."

The bundle of limbs shifted. After a moment, there was a mumble, only just loud enough to be heard, "I said, you're really warm."

Slurred and melting into each other, they sounded like the words of a child falling asleep - that's what Bunny told himself, anyway, trying to will away the sudden surge of warmth in his chest. Bunny has had those exact words spoken to him by the exact same person. Multiple times, and usually with a horrified and panicky tone, as if Jack were going to melt right onto the ground with prolonged contact to anything warm-blooded because _geez have you_ seen _what spring does to snow, do you really want me to turn into a puddle of sad winter spirit so early in my budding career as a Guardian_.

These words now were vulnerable, like exposing one's ribcage to the fresh air. Allowing one full sight of one's heart.

Bunny found himself unable to say anything back.

A minute passed, then two, and Jack didn't say anything more. His breathing had evened out, finally - then Bunny realized he was _actually_ asleep. He wanted to shift, try to look at his face, but a grunt and a slight shift had him aborting the movement, forcing himself to remain still on the grass. The body in his arms seemed heavier - the weight of being alive, perhaps, of flesh and blood and all the things it entailed. Much easier to jostle than the immovable strength of wind and winter.

Did Jack even sleep as a winter spirit? Likely not. His job, even before becoming a Guardian, entailed focus day and night, perpetually in motion and not a second for rest (though to him, maybe it didn't seem like work at all). The other Guardians didn't need sleep, either. It was always night somewhere; that cut Tooth and Sandy's work out for them. North and Bunny were different; the majority of their job centered itself on singular days, leaving the rest of the year relatively calm, but their habits as mammals and mammal-like creatures left a sort of solace in the act of sleeping. Maybe less so in North's case, with his past of being a bandit and exercising vigilance in every waking hour and otherwise. For Bunny, rest was essentially _built in_ to spring. A time of rebirth and waking from long hibernations, rest was needed for it to be possible at all.

He looked down, again, at Jack. Unconscious, he looked calmer than Bunny had ever seen him. If someone had told him to get Jack to sit still and be quiet for longer than a minute, he would've laughed his arse off. Yet here he was. Bunny could barely believe it was happening - _any_ of this. He really hoped North couldn't feel the Wonder from the Pole.

Humans could sleep for around nine hours, couldn't they? It wasn't quite a few centuries, but it was still a while. Still, the warmth and calm was making him think twice about it. It had been a while since he'd slept, and he's been tired for a long time. It was easy for his heart to slow down and try to match Jack's own steady beat, for him to mold his body into his own as though he'd been made to fit there. His Warren was his safe haven - nothing could come for them here. He didn't mind sacrificing a few hours, even for Jack Frost.

 

 

 

When Bunny woke up, it was because the human in his arms was gone.

It was, admittedly, not his proudest moment. He may have panicked a bit more than absolutely necessary. Sure, Jack was in a dangerous state right now (in more ways than one), but he was hardly a c _hild_ , like he said! Few hundred years an' counting, he couldn't be _completely_ irresponsible, human or not. In his half-lucid state, though, whatever rationale he had flew out the window in favor of screaming alarm bells.

It turned out his fears were unfounded, for Jack was sitting only half a meter away, rolling the staff between his fingers and humming.

Would he be surprised now if Bunny tapped him on the back? He waited anyway. Let himself look properly now that they'd both calmed down, somewhat, and his mind was no longer clouded with fear and worst case scenarios.

The blue looked strange on Jack now, washed out compared to his now-bronzed skin. The frosted designs once adorning his shoulders had melted and dried - how long had they been asleep? He didn't know, and strangely, he didn't mind. From how messed up Jack's hair was, though, sticking out every which way and curling in a way they never would have when he was a spirit, it must have been a while.

He must've laughed or something, because Jack turned to look at him, and then _he_ was the one laughing.

"Dude. There's drool on your chin."

And Jack was laughing as Bunny hastily wiped away the alleged spit, dismayed to find that it was in fact damp, and he was now going to smell and also have sticky fur. Bunny must have been getting soft or something, though, because there's nothing but a disgusting sort of affection swallowing his chest whole, watching Jack's cheeks turn a charming pink like hydrangea bloom. Maybe he was still half-asleep. This was why he never took naps.

Then he wasn't laughing, and Bunny noticed the pink faded to a dark red, like tendrils of spider lilies beneath his eyes.

"Hey, can we just. I dunno, forget all that crying stuff happened? That, uh. Wasn't my best moment."

"You were crying?" Bunny asked, and Jack shot him a grateful and knowing smile, a petal curling in on itself shyly. In all honesty, Bunny hadn't _realized_ he'd been crying, too caught up in his own distraught. It made sense, though - it must have been why Jack was so adamant on covering his face. Also, it was more plausible than Bunny having somehow drooled on his own chest, and it was less disgusting than if it'd been _his_ drool.

"Y'know," Jack said, changing the subject as he stood up and dusted himself off. "I never realized how uncomfortable these pants were. I don't think I've changed them in like, a hundred years."

"That’s _disgusting_."

Jack only hummed amusedly in response, twirling his staff. One could never have guessed that previously it was a tool of channeling the forces of winter and snow, but it somehow still fit Jack perfectly, hand still in a comfortable grip around bark the color of his hair.

His footsteps started out light, before the weight of his earth-bound body followed and almost tipped him over. It was like watching a newborn deer learning how to walk - Jack moved slowly and unsurely, each step surer than the last with eyes glued to his bare feet, wide and alert. As a spirit, his limbs seemed to slice through the air, the wind bearing no resistance to him as he moved through the currents. Now, though, he was like a broadsword compared to a foil, heavily defined arcs in the air that moved the very atmosphere around him. He wasn't as graceful, movements a push and pull with gravity, but it was the same unpredictability, the same movements following a complicated syncopation of a beat.

Then he was spinning, trying to look behind at himself and holding up the underside of his feet, his arms. Then he laughed. "Y'know, I think I look just like I did when I was human."

"You looked like that as a human?"

"Yeah. Maybe more buff, though. Freezing to death does a number on you."

Bunny couldn't stop his snort of disbelief, nose twitching in the air. He hopped closer, just out of reach of Jack's spinning arms. "Yeah, nah. ’M pretty bloody sure you've been a stick since the day you were _born_."

"Oh?" Jack said, raising a brow, strands of hair following the halt of his spin. "And did you ever _see_ me, as a kid?"

Bunny stared at him; crossed his arms. "Mate, I only landed the Easter Bunny gig 'round the 1700s. How old are you, again, kiddo?"

"Oh my god. I might be older than the _Easter Bunny_."

" _Mate_ ," Bunny protested, but it was hard to get a word in-between Jack's uproarious laughter. "Ya mighta been 'round longer than I had this job, but compared to _me_ , yer a baby in a cradle!"

"So you're _ancient_? Is it really safe for you to be hopping around all over the place, old man?"

"Bloody hell, I just can't win, can I?"

Bunny graciously decided that just this once, he'd forgive the boy's joking. It was hard not to, after he'd finally cracked a smile amidst the tears and confusion. Like this, he just looked like another human, a mischievousness signaling nothing but joy and energy as opposed to what seemed an underlying current of danger. It was strange to think that once he'd been just like this, pulled into the world of Guardians and spirits by accident. He still wasn't sure what, exactly, brought him to be this way, the circumstances of his death, but he didn't want to ask. Not when the thought of it made his heart ache and his fingers shake.

"Ya know, you look like Jamie's long lost cousin, 'r somethin'."

Jack's foot halted just above the ground, toes barely pressed into the moist blades of grass. He looked over. "Really?"

"Yeah. He looks like he's yer kid brother, 'r somethin'."

Jack looked back at his feet, after a long pause; pushed them into the dirt.

"...that makes sense. I had a sister, once. Maybe that's why."

 _That's why what?_ Bunny didn't ask. Jack had already turned his attention away, anyway, eyes drifting over the exits of the Warren, tunnels leading outside. It was nowhere near Easter, so the paths and grasses were empty. There was no use having dozens of eggs wandering around going rotten, after all; it had taken him a while to clear out the stench for the one time he'd left them to wander about. The tunnels were left yawning mouths, dark and echoing, and it was disconcerting enough to have Bunny put doors in place when they weren't in use.

Now they were large oak doors, vibrant and full of warm colors, a crisscross of spirals and flowers decorating its surface. Heavy enough that nothing from outside could move them; nothing but Sentinels could move them from the inside (though Bunny asserted that, given enough effort, he was _absolutely_ able to do so). They'd taken a couple of decades on and off to build and carve, and Frostbite better damn sure be appreciating the effort put into it. Still, Jack said nothing, just staring out and breathing, in, out.

"It's weird," he started, suddenly, still staring. Bunny's ears twitched, tail tapping the ground. "Everything feels different. Like, I mean, it feels the same, y'know? The ground under my feet. The staff. All that stuff. It's the same, but..."

He breathed in. "I'm not a part of it anymore. Used to be like I could feel the wind and where it was going, like I knew where the clouds were gathering and where it was cold and where it wasn't. Now I just... _don't_. It's sort of lonely, you know?"

He did know. He couldn't even imagine having his connection to the earth and to spring being ripped away from him. It was tantamount to destroying a part of himself, reworking the processes of his mind and body - the denial of all understanding he had of the world. Like being in pain every time he so much as breathed.

For Jack, it must have been different. Hundreds of years spent alone with no one to see him, interact with him. To be a spirit of something was to be connected to it, to always be united with it and aware of it - for him, the wind, the weather, the movements of winter and the paths of ice and snow. For Bunny, the birth and growth of life, plants sprouting and winter receding to make way for the spring bloom. The connection was the assertion that one was part of a bigger constituent, that one was never really alone. And for someone who had been as alone as Jack Frost, to have it taken away must be the most damning solitude conceivable.

"We'll get ya back, Frostbite. An' even if ya _don't_ ," he said, rushing through his next sentence before Jack tried to cut in, "'s not like yer gonna let that stop ya."

"What, you're saying that I'll just carry on being a Guardian, even though I can't even dredge up a snowflake anymore," Jack scoffed, playing it off and kicking the dirt, but even as he averted his gaze, Bunny could see the hope rising in his eyes.

It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Ya got the kids to believe in me when I was a lil' bun, not even a little tyke, I can get kids to believe in a human Jack Frost. Returnin' the favor."

Jack turned to look at him. Brown eyes and hair, skin like moonstone in the pale light; despite all these things, so different to the usual Jack Frost, to the snow white hair and the skin like stalactites, it was still distinctly _him_ , down to the line of his back and the curve of his lips. They were the same wide-eyed saccades, following the same route, the same teasing voice.

"Yeah," he said, slowly. Then a smile broke out on his face, slow like the sun rising. "Yeah. S'not like it won't be _fun,_ either way."

**Author's Note:**

> oh yeah almost forgot, the 1700s thing i pulled out from google when i searched the origin of the easter bunny but no sources are very reliable so /shrug


End file.
